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“Ming-xiong! Oh, Ming-xiong!” He Xuan winces at the sing-song voice as it cuts through the chatter of the Grand Martial Hall to reach their ears. Its owner is not far behind – in a tragically short moment, Shi Qingxuan is plopping into the seat beside them, beaming ear-to-ear. The festival atmosphere suits her; she nearly glows, her face seemingly lit from within. “I can’t believe you’re sitting at the back of the hall,” she teases, poking at them. He Xuan smacks her hand away, and she only laughs. “You don’t have to be so sour tonight, you know. It is a celebration.”
“I’m aware,” He Xuan says flatly. At least the food is delicious – gods, as well as ghosts, don’t need physical nourishment, but He Xuan still finds themself eating like a starving man. In a sense, perhaps they are one; perhaps they always will be. “You know I don’t congregate with the other gods if I can help it.”
Shi Qingxuan laughs again, a great, bell-like sound. It could be beautiful, if it weren’t so intrusively loud. “You do , Ming-xiong,” she says, taking out her fan and playing idly with it. He Xuan can’t imagine being so relaxed with their own spiritual device, although it isn’t technically theirs , now, is it? “You congregate with other gods all the time – you just don’t like it for a minute, and spend the whole time souring the mood for everyone else.” She grins, as if to say just kidding! , exposing all her shining white teeth. He Xuan only scoffs, forcing their gaze back down to the plate of food before them.
“If I do, it’s only because you force me to. I wouldn’t waste my time with any of them if it weren’t for you.” He Xuan has learned, in years of formulating their revenge, that the best way to avoid suspicion is to never tell a lie. And so they don’t, whenever they can avoid it – the truth comes easily, and is always murky enough that it obfuscates their real purpose. So it is true that He Xuan only speaks to the other gods because of Shi Qingxuan – after all, if it weren’t for her, they would owe no debt, and thus no information, to Crimson Rain Sought Flower. If not for her, they might not exist in this form at all.
Shi Qingxuan is adept at picking the meaning behind He Xuan’s words that best suits her. She laughs, clapping their shoulder. He Xuan grits their teeth until the urge to recoil from her touch dissipates. “Yes, yes, what would you do without me? That’s why we make such a good team, Ming-xiong! Now come on.” She flutters her lashes at them, attempting to look pathetic. He Xuan wants to pluck those lashes out one by one. “Mid-Autumn Festival only comes once a year. Even my brother is letting loose, and you know how serious he can be!” She sighs. “Although I wish he wouldn’t let loose with those… loafers.” She glares pointedly at the other side of the banquet, where Shi Wudu is drinking merrily with Pei Ming and Ling Wen. Shi Qingxuan sighs. “If only he’d keep better company, my ge.”
“Someone should teach those three some morals,” He Xuan mutters bitterly. Shi Qingxuan sighs in agreement, squishing her cheek up against their shoulder. He Xuan takes a deep breath and tries not to break something.
“You get me, Ming-xiong,” she mumbles, rubbing her face against their sleeve. He Xuan’s face screws up – she’ll smear her ridiculous make-up all over their black robe. Unbelievable. “Where would I be without you?”
“Dead,” they mutter, because it's the truth. Shi Qingxuan snorts, taking it as a joke, but before she can reply the Grand Martial Emperor steps forward and pours a glass of wine before passing it along. He Xuan watches for a moment as the gods, laughingly, pass it from one to another, before turning their attention back to their meal. Seated so far away, He Xuan highly doubts the wine glass will make its way back to them.
Except, before they know it, the glass is in their hands.
He Xuan stares dumbly at it, hearing the rumbling thunder begin to fade. Their brow furrows – the last thing they want is to watch some ridiculous play about Ming Yi – but as abruptly as it landed in their hands, the wine glass is gone, and He Xuan turns to Shi Qingxuan as the thunder stops and she downs the entire glass.
He Xuan looks at Shi Qingxuan, stunned, as she makes a great show of being sheepish over being picked. A few of the other gods laugh, but they’re hushed as the play begins onstage. The depiction of Shi Qingxuan is absurd – a waifish, pathetic Lady Wind Master with over-large eyes that look on the verge of tears, trembling and crying out in a breathy voice for “Lord Water Master!” Again, the other gods are in stitches over the portrayal, but He Xuan doesn’t waste their time watching the nonsense. Instead, they stare at the real Shi Qingxuan, whose arms are crossed as she studies her depiction, her brow ever-so-slightly furrowed in disapproval. He Xuan takes a moment to glance at the actress portraying her – she looks like a caricature of femininity, her features rounded and exaggerated in a parody of beauty so unlike the effortless grace Shi Qingxuan carries. He Xuan is hardly surprised that the performance does her so little justice – how could anything match this monolithic center of He Xuan’s existence? – but it’s still such a stark contrast that they’re almost tempted to laugh right along with the wine-drunk gods.
The performance doesn’t last long, in any case; Shi Wudu is swift to anger, and he spends a large sum of merits to dismiss the production. Shi Qingxuan’s posture relaxes, and when she looks over to He Xuan, her smile is back in place. “Don’t worry, Ming-xiong,” she says, “I don’t mind it. I’ve been misrepresented almost since I ascended.” She laughs, and He Xuan has studied her every move and expression and gesture and thus knows it’s forced.
“Why would you take the cup?” they ask, and Shi Qingxuan blinks, as if the question had never occurred to her before.
“You didn’t want it to land on you,” she says simply. “You don’t like seeing the way your worshippers depict you, right?” They blink – they had no idea she’d noticed that about them. “It’s no problem to see something silly about myself if it spares you from it.” She smiles, her cheeks dimpling. “Besides, it’s a festival! A little silliness never hurt anyone.”
He Xuan shrugs. When, after all, have she or her brother ever shown selflessness, or even humility? Her motives are nonsensical to them, but then, much about Shi Qingxuan is mysterious, unexpected.
The rest of the banquet passes uneventfully, and before long, the gods are crowding together to watch the lanterns ascend. Shi Qingxuan all but drags He Xuan after her as she moves to a better vantage point, bouncing with excitement. “This is my favorite part,” she says loudly, over the rumbling chatter of the crowd around them. She keeps a tight grip on He Xuan’s hand as she watches the sky, and, frankly, they’re too tired to pull away. Much of this is precisely what He Xuan’s come to expect – Lady Rain Master receives only one lantern, while Xuan Zhen and Nan Yang nearly tie. At last they reach the top 10, and Shi Qingxuan’s grip on their hand tightens.
“Next, with 304 lanterns,” the heavenly official intones. “Lord Earth Master.”
He Xuan hardly has a chance to react before Shi Qingxuan gasps, then throws her arms around them with a squeal. He Xuan staggers a bit, caught off-guard, but she pulls back as quickly as she leapt on them, smiling, her cheeks pink. “Ming-xiong!” she shouts. “I can’t believe it, you made top 10!” She claps, laughing. “That’s the first time ever !”
He Xuan shakes their head. “You’re making a scene,” they say, but they feel… light. Buoyed, almost. Like a lantern themself.
Shi Qingxuan only laughs, bouncing on her toes. “Oh, of course you don’t care! I’ll be excited for you.” And she turns her gaze up to the sky, her face illuminated by the lanterns, her eyes shining. He Xuan is almost transfixed by the sight of her, the curve of her jaw and the slant of her brow, the way her eyes reflect the golden glow above them like miniature constellations.
In what feels like a moment and an eternity, Ling Wen calls out Shi Qingxuan’s own number, and while she smiles and waves to the crowd, He Xuan can’t help but feel that she was more enthused when it was their turn to shine.
That night, after the festivities end, He Xuan leaves the heavens.
They descend to the mortal realm first, finding a quiet little spot far, far from sleeping families or celebrating worshippers. They draw an array, and then they’re in Nether Water Manor. The sudden quiet rushes to fill their ears like waves breaking hard on the shore, and the manor is dark and undisturbed.
He Xuan ignores the faint call of the water-snakes, instead descending through their palace. They need quiet, after tonight, and they need solitude. It was all too much up there–
Shi Qingxuan was far too much.
They can feel it, like an uncomfortable sore developing in their heart. Shi Qingxuan, despite her loud brashness, her obnoxious too-much ness, has engendered some fondness for her in them, and every step through the dank darkness is a step away from her, a step in which they can think. Really think.
He Xuan can’t afford to lose their resolve now.
They push open the door to the most important room in the manor, the only one that truly matters. Before the four urns arranged there, they kneel, screwing their eyes shut as they try picture their family. It’s been so long – their appearances flicker and falter in He Xuan’s mind. “I haven’t forgotten,” they whisper hoarsely. “I’ll never forget what they’ve done to you. I will allow you to rest in peace, I swear it.” They look up, then, at the urns – their parents, their sister, their beloved fiance. They swallow heavily. “I’ll remember,” they say, firmly. “And I will not rest until you are avenged.”
Once again, the heavens are in a state of excitement. Junior officials rush to and fro; gods drink and laugh and celebrate. He Xuan stands removed from it all, silent as the grave, their eyes locked on the figure at the center of attention.
Shi Qingxuan. Of course.
She’s absolutely glowing with delight at all the ruckus, greeting every one of the gods like an old friend. Which is ridiculous – Shi Qingxuan is sociable, certainly, but even she couldn’t remember every minor deity trying to improve their own status by being seen near her. Still, she beams at the attention. He Xuan sneers. What a clown.
And then Shi Qingxuan spots them and breaks through the throng, waving off her well-wishers. Uninvited, she clings to He Xuan, giggling like a fool. “Ming-xiong!” she says brightly. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” She peeks up at them, eyes sparkling. “Guess what day it is,” she says conspiratorially.
As if they could forget. He Xuan avoids her gaze, expression blank. “I have no idea,” they say dryly.
Shi Qingxuan gasps in faux-outrage, releasing her grip on them to smack their arm. It’s pathetically weak. “Ming-xiong! Don’t lie, you’re bad at it!” She laughs. “It’s my birthday, of course.”
He Xuan clenches their fists. “Of course,” they mutter.
Shi Qingxuan claps, grinning up at He Xuan. “So! Did you get me a present?” He Xuan raises an eyebrow at her; somehow, her smile widens. “Oh, come on. You don’t need to be so sour. Y’know, more people would like you if you were a little more approachable.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” they intone.
Shi Qingxuan snort-laughs, clasping He Xuan’s hand between both of hers. They nearly flinch at the touch. “Yes, yes. No need to thank me for my guidance.” She leans up to whisper in their ear. “It’s okay if you didn’t get me a present. I know that’s not the kind of thing you usually do.” She pulls back and winks. “You can just buy me a drink next time we’re in the mortal realm, alright? And don’t tell my brother – he’ll be so mad that you didn’t get me anything.”
“And we wouldn’t want that,” He Xuan says flatly.
Shi Qingxuan laughs. “Exactly! Oh!” A group of civil officials is waving to her, and she waves back. “Wait right here, Ming-xiong! I’ll be back in just a second.” She winks again, then spins away, floating effortlessly through the crowd of well-wishers. He Xuan hardly notices; their mind is years away, remembering their own birthdays. Their sister used to cling to them, telling everyone in town it was their birthday, and their mother and their fiance used to spend hours cooking a good meal for them. Even now, as they look at the sea of people clamoring to wish Shi Qingxuan a happy birthday, jealousy stirs in their chest. That should have been them – He Xuan should be drowning in attention and praise, and they should be as carefree and uncomplicatedly joyful as Shi Qingxuan is. Instead, their birthday will be spent in a cold, wet crypt in Nether Water Manor with the only traces that remain of their family.
And yet, as soon as the thought enters their mind, they feel disgust. They don’t want this – these fake, cruel gods, heaping unearned worship and idle flattery on another in hopes of personal gain. He Xuan doesn’t want this, and their family wouldn’t have wanted to be a part of this – unlike Shi Wudu, whose chest is puffed out with pride, probably because he, too, realizes that this pageantry is all a result of his own wealth and power. He Xuan has to swallow back their rage and disgust.
At the same time, they feel guilty. They’re not sure why, but it might have something to do with the sound of Shi Qingxuan’s laugh floating over the crowd, or the way her smile seems to brighten whenever it’s turned their way.
Eventually, Shi Qingxuan breaks away from the crowd just long enough to grab He Xuan’s hand and pull them into it. For a brief moment, He Xuan gets a taste of the attention she’s been showered with, as those fake smiles turn on them, too. Shi Qingxuan babbles, “Thank you all for the gifts, really, many thanks! This has been such a happy birthday!” She laughs. “But Lord Earth Master got me an extra-special present, and they’re going to show it to me now! I’ll catch up with you all later, okay?” He Xuan is most certainly not going to show Shi Qingxuan any sort of present, and she’s the one who leads them away from everyone else toward the Earth Master Palace. He Xuan catches a glimpse of Shi Wudu as they pass, and he’s frowning; the petty satisfaction they get from displeasing him almost makes the whole ridiculous charade worth it.
At last, they’re shut away indoors, and Shi Qingxuan leans against the doors and fans herself, sighing. “Aiyah, that was insane! I thought those people would never stop talking.” She tucks her fan away, but remains dramatically slouched. “You know I like a party, Ming-xiong, but that wasn’t a party. Everyone was talking over each other and trying to impress me-hmph! You’re supposed to be giving me presents, not the other way around!” She grins at He Xuan. “I bet that’s why you keep your birthday such a secret, hm?”
He Xuan rolls their eyes. “Yes, that’s the exact reason.” They kick their foot against hers; she uses this as an excuse to slide to the floor, as if they’d kicked her feet out from under her. “Except no one wants to talk to me, anyway.”
Shi Qingxuan barks a laugh. “That’s because you’re mean . And very anti-social.”
He Xuan shakes their head. “I can’t believe you gave up so quickly. I thought you loved being the center of attention.”
She throws her hands up. “But I wasn’t ! On my own birthday, too.” She sighs. “So disappointing.”
“It’s hard, being heaven’s favorite,” they murmur, and somehow there isn’t any edge to it. Shi Qingxuan only laughs.
“Tell me about it.” She peers up at them, her eyes shining, and is silent for such a long moment that He Xuan almost thinks there must be something wrong. Finally, she says, “I know you don’t really have a present for me. Maybe we could go someplace, though – you do owe me a drink.” She smiles, and it isn’t bright and flashy – it’s soft around the edges, warm.
He Xuan almost agrees, as if by instinct. But no, no, of course they can’t. They wouldn’t – they don’t want to. Time spent with Shi Qingxuan only becomes more and more agonizing. They shake their head quickly. “I can’t,” they say. “I have business to take care of.”
If they’d blinked, they’d have missed it – Shi Qingxuan’s face falls only for a moment before her cheerful expression is back. “Fine, fine. Lord Earth Master is too busy for their friends.”
He Xuan nods dully. Their mouth is oddly dry. “Seems so.”
Shi Qingxuan clambers to her feet. “I’m sure ge wants me for something, anyway. He’s so pushy.” She laughs; it’s hollow. He Xuan has somehow become an expert.
“Yes,” they say tonelessly. “You should go.” To her brother. Remember Shi Wudu – remember what he did. Shi Qingxuan nods and waves breezily; He Xuan watches her go and then quickly steps into their array. Enough of her and her festivities – He Xuan has their own birthday to observe.
It takes both longer than He Xuan expected and not nearly long enough for Shi Qingxuan to demand they make good on their offer to buy her a drink. The two of them descend to the mortal realm in an instant, He Xuan in an inconspicuous outfit and Shi Qingxuan in robes that, while toned down for her, are still ridiculously ornate. The sun is bright when they arrive to a bustling little market, the town fully awake and undoubtedly loud. For once, the noise doesn’t bother He Xuan – it feels familiar, comforting. At least until their companion opens her mouth.
“This way, Ming-xiong!” she says cheerily, clinging to their arm like a little lost child. “I see a tanghulu stand.”
He Xuan makes a soft noise at the back of their throat. “I only agreed to pay for drinks,” they say. “You have to pay for food.”
Shi Qingxuan gasps, as if betrayed. “But you already owe me so much for all the food I’ve bought you!”
He Xuan hm s. “How much?”
Shi Qingxuan goes quiet for a moment. He Xuan feels absurdly satisfied with this development. “No fair,” she declares at last, pouting up at them.
“If you don’t even know how much, you must not really need it paid back.”
“Or maybe I’m just generous!”
Apparently, she is feeling generous – she diligently pays for food for the both of them, and not just tanghulu. They start there, of course, but then Shi Qingxuan drags them to the other market stalls, some selling clothing, some jewelry, some ridiculous little trinkets that no one has any need for, much less a god, and in between each shop they find more food to fill up on. He Xuan loyally keeps up their end of the bargain, too, buying wine and letting Shi Qingxuan drink to her heart’s content. It is an odd little thing they have in common – He Xuan’s bottomless appetite for food, only matched by Shi Qingxuan’s for wine. They’re mulling this over several hours and many more drinks into their excursion, watching Shi Qingxuan drape silk fabric over herself and ask, “Ming-xiong, what do you think? Is this my color?”
He Xuan blinks. “Yes,” they say honestly. They don’t mean to say it – they don’t even mean to think it. But it’s true; Shi Qingxuan looks lovely, and something in their stomach lurches.
Shi Qingxuan seems unbothered. She grins, broad and glowing and beautiful. “I’ll take it,” she says eagerly, and before He Xuan knows it they’re on their way, Shi Qingxuan’s hand warm and tight around theirs.
He Xuan isn’t sure, exactly, how they managed to get swept away like this. All they know is that they don’t feel like a ghost or a god; they feel normal. Human. And right now, it almost doesn’t matter what twists their fates took – He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan are together, drinking and eating and basking in the hot sun and the energy of an entire community around them. He Xuan’s heart squeezes; has this been what they wanted for so long?
That train of thought crashes to a halt just as they do. He Xuan turns back; Shi Qingxuan is still holding their hand firmly, but her feet are planted, her brows gently furrowed as she gazes at—something. He Xuan follows her gaze, unsure at first what’s disturbed her, until they notice an old beggar, ignored by the crowd of people. He Xuan frowns, but before they can say anything, Shi Qingxuan releases their hand and brushes past them, her gait purposeful and composed.
All He Xuan can do is trail behind her, watching as she approaches the old woman. As she passes, the breeze stirs, and a windchime tings – or, perhaps, those are coins they hear clinking together. He Xuan catches up to Shi Qingxuan, scowling.
“You aren’t supposed to interfere like that,” they murmur.
Shi Qingxuan shrugs blithely. “It was a divine miracle,” she says lightly. “That’s all.”
He Xuan’s eyes narrow. “She may not have even be one of your worshippers.”
She laughs. “Ming-xiong, everyone worships me. Drop it, okay?” She looks up at them, smiling, but He Xuan sees the glimmer of sincerity in her eyes. Again, they feel something odd. They’re moved by her, and the more they consider that, the worse they feel.
“Ming-xiong?” Their vision comes back into focus on Shi Qingxuan’s worried expression. “Let’s get you some air.” She’s guiding them by the hand off the busy thoroughfare, into a quiet, empty alley. “If you’re going to throw up, best not to do it in front of all these people.”
He Xuan shrugs out of her grip. They feel odd – hot and cold and floaty and extremely grounded. They look at her, filled with an odd sense of desperation. “Why are you like this?” they’re saying without thinking. “What’s—”
Shi Qingxuan frowns. “You’re acting weird. Maybe we should—”
They jerk their head – no, no , they can’t hold it in any longer. “Why are you so nice?” they spit. The word feels inadequate – nice . Shi Qingxuan is so much more than that. “You have everything, so why—”
A pair of hands finds their shoulders. “Breathe,” she says. “You’re not thinking straight.”
He Xuan shakes their head miserably, looking intently at her. She’s smiling encouragingly, the expression softened and sweet, her eyes glimmering. Their gaze slides down further, to her throat. They want to kiss it, make it theirs; they want to rip it out with their teeth. “What’s wrong with you?” they murmur half-heartedly, but they mean: What’s wrong with me?
Shi Qingxuan doesn’t falter for a moment. “Breathe,” she repeats. “You just got overwhelmed all of a sudden.” He Xuan is overwhelmed, but it’s far from sudden – the pressure’s been building and building to a raging crescendo, and they never had the sense to calm it. Now, it’s far too late.
“What’s wrong with you,” they repeat hoarsely, and then, “Qingxuan,” and then they lunge for her, but rather than grasping for her heart and tearing it free of her chest they hungrily claim her lips with their own. And oh, Shi Qingxuan, in all her divinity, does nothing to stop them. No; she grasps at them, pulls them closer, makes a soft noise that burrows under He Xuan’s skin and makes them itch. They pause only to hear her desperate little gasps of air before diving in again, just as wanting as before. And it’s such a relief, that feeling that finally, now they’re showing her, now they’re putting her in her place, now she knows everything He Xuan feels, tastes every lie they’ve ever told to her and to themself.
He Xuan is lost in it, the feeling of finally claiming her, devouring her, until Shi Qingxuan, in the breaths before their lips meet her own once more, breathes, “Yiyi,” and He Xuan recoils in disgust.
She’s called the wrong person.
Shi Qingxuan’s brow furrows. “What? What’s wrong—” She reaches for them, and they jerk away, away from her touch.
“No,” He Xuan says, and their voice trembles with rage, with regret, with hate, with— “Don’t.”
Shi Qingxuan blinks, eyes wide. “But—I don’t understand—”
“This was a mistake,” they say, to her and to themself. She would agree, if she knew the truth – she never would have kissed He Xuan, only Ming Yi. A terrible, terrible mistake; they want to rip their tongue from their throat. “This will never happen again, do you understand?”
Shi Qingxuan takes a shaky breath; He Xuan looks away from her. “Ming-xiong, I—”
“I’m leaving,” they say coolly, and they do. They disappear back to the Earth Master Palace, silent and empty, too ashamed to return to Nether Water Manor and face their loved ones after what they’ve done.
“Ready, Ming-xiong?” Shi Qingxuan is garbed in her white robes, her whisk and her fan securely tucked away. He Xuan nods, adjusting their ponytail. At Shi Qingxuan’s insistence, they’re heading out to the desert to investigate something involving Pei Ming – frankly, He Xuan doesn’t care much at all. But these days, they tend to follow Shi Qingxuan’s lead.
Nothing has changed since that one afternoon. They haven’t even discussed it – and never will. Shi Qingxuan melted back into the role of boisterous best friend, a little less touchy but very quickly back to her customary, annoying self. He Xuan let her; there’s no need to do otherwise.
They know that things are changing. Shi Wudu’s Heavenly Calamity is approaching; pieces are falling into place. Soon, this charade will be over, and He Xuan will have fulfilled their one wish. Shi Qingxuan will know suffering, as deep and painful and lasting as their own.
But.
There’s a softness, still, in He Xuan’s heart. The pieces are in place, yes; there’s no changing what must be done, and they don’t desire to. But Shi Qingxuan isn’t who they expected when they plotted all this, and all they can do to acknowledge that fact is give her this, these little moments where she gets everything she wants. It will hurt more, when it’s over. Perhaps she will judge the pain to be worth it.
“Ready,” He Xuan says, the shadow to her light, the villain to her story, if not their own. “Let’s get this over with.”